


Raise the Goddess

by Baye



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 07:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baye/pseuds/Baye
Summary: [ A love to end the world. ] — ; … Neji thought he had had it all figured out. It had been cruelly woven into the strings of fate, his life mattered for just one purpose. Everything should have gone according to plan, until… that girl…





	Raise the Goddess

**Do you know me?**

 

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When a pen runs out of ink, it is tossed in the trash and replaced.

When the elderly can no longer support themselves, they are disposed of at a retirement home and forgotten.

When an estranged soul repudiates earthly affiliation, his body is incinerated and the ashes are scattered into the ocean.

All things have their use, and once they run dry or their purpose is fulfilled they are obsolete and irrelevant.

On about the weekly basis he had to remind himself of that fact and try not to be bitter about it.

 

**[** _“... Raise the Goddess…”_ **]**

 

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_Late_?

Principles and high standards embodied all of what he was. Entwined in his molecular coding was an infallible efficiency and the makeup of an emperor’s unerring competence. Anything less of himself would be unacceptable—his pride wouldn’t allow failure, nor would his intelligence, good health, resolute persistence, effortless athleticism, illustrious civility...

As well as his _punctuality._

He always left the house with a spare ten minutes in his pocket to accommodate any delays that might keep him from arriving at school on time. Those ten minutes had metaphorically saved his life on numerous occasions and so pardoned him from ever compromising his immaculate attendance record. But for the first time, on the first day of school, in the first week of April, his perfection risked losing its credibility.

He had exactly seven minutes and eighteen seconds (becoming seventeen, sixteen, fifteen…) to reach room 2-B on the second floor from the train station. It was half a mile’s distance away.

Off of the train, he walked quickly away from the congested surge of exiting pedestrians and arrived at the first sidewalk before the path to the school.

A glance at this neighborhood and some might think it to be the inspiration for an animated Ghibli film. Clean roads, shining street signs, geometric cut hedges before verdant lawns introducing two-story forty acre private homes. The smell of eager blossoming lilacs and assorted azaleas floated over his head like redolent rolling clouds, adorned by yesterday evening’s petrichor. As so was the Mito District, the more upper class region of Konoha’s six sectors.  Usually he’d take the time to observe everything, but today his eyes were attached to his wristwatch.

Six minutes took him, finally, to the front gates. A minute remained. If he walked faster, he should get there just on time.

There was that distinct buzzing energy in the air of whom its tendency was to accentuate the excitement of a new semester’s beginning—the determination to do well, find love, get noticed. The first years wore it like sanguine perfume and left it amble in the halls for third year students to knowingly disregard. Stragglers remained along the walls, lost or disoriented or overwhelmed, and the school flag hung at full length, wavering at the brisk hush of cold air that flowed when teachers shut their doors to begin homeroom. He thought little of it and found the nearest staircase.

It was here that things went wrong.

Stares at this point in his life were standard; he wore them like he wore his clothes. People would see him, ignore him, do a full-on double-take to make sure they'd seen correctly and then gawk upon realizing that they were real.

So he wasn't fazed even slightly when a girl stopped in her tracks and jolted a full 360 degrees as he walked past her, a gasp leaping from her unprepared throat. He'd seen worse reactions.

“... Neji…?”

The lone word was barely a whisper as it left her lips. It was so small and so soft and so thoroughed with uncertainty that he would not have heard it if he were an inch further away. It was spoken with such… significance. Like it was important.

He shifted his head a crook over his shoulder almost involuntarily, because no one on this planet used his first name except for one and it was slightly startling to hear it from the mouth of a female. The acknowledging look he gave to the girl was neither attentive nor hostile.

A second gasp flew, her hands trembled and crept to her mouth. It was her eyes that sparkled and glistened with moisture by which Neji understood that they had never met before; distinctive and rather doe-like, bright and nicely accented by the little dot beauty mark below the left. The rest of her was unremarkable—dark hair, darker eyes, somewhat tall for a girl but ultimately average-looking. At most, they’d passed by each other before. Nothing existed to justify using—or even knowing—his first name.

He scrunched his eyebrows in perplexity and turned away after some gray seconds of her saying nothing and… staring. Well-averted, Neji chided and started back to the classroom.

But then rapid footsteps succeeded behind him and he was too late to prevent the soft feel of her hands that stole his own from his side. Her fingers squeezed and molded between the spaces of his and yanked him to attention, forcing him into an embrace. She smelled like a misty night breeze and her clothes were slightly damp, as if she'd been caught in a light evening shower.

“Am I dreaming?” Her voice was frozen and fragile unlike her hands, which were warm and soft enough to melt into his palm. She was shaking, squeezing harder, burying her nose into his chest. He could feel tears through his shirt. “Is this real? Neji…”

Marijuana and drug use in general were grounds for a no-questions-asked expulsion and a thick black mark on a permanent record. The last time someone was caught with them on school grounds had been over ten years ago, but to think for it to have been resurrected right before his very eyes, weeping utter nonsense, was unforeseen.

His scowl deepened. How repulsive.

The boy pardoned razor-thin mercy in prying the quivering little inebriate off of his body, taking away his hand and wiping off her touch on his pants. The bell chose to ring at that moment. His vexation spiraled; thanks to her, he was late for class. A perfect attendance record, faulted.

He stormed off to the classroom. Hopefully the homeroom teacher would either be lenient or willing to negotiate something in exchange for a pardon; the latter came in abundance. After all, children of money flocked to the Senju Establishment of Higher Education or “Senju High”, its name alone was enough to make a parent’s mouth water.

“Wait, Neji! What are you doing?”

He stopped in his tracks.

“Wh—what’s wrong?” She caught up with him, and her hand reached out and began to pull on his shirt. “I—I thought—how—”

“Stay the _hell_ away from me.” This time he wasn’t so forgiving. Disdain rode low with the rumbling, cold anger that fortified his words. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re lucky that I haven’t already filed a suit against you for harassment. Touch me again and I’ll make it so.”

He didn’t even look at her. Vermin didn’t deserve his attention.

Her hand dropped, and Neji was satisfied. That should make her think twice about ever disturbing him again.

Just before he reached the door, he left her with a haughty bit of advice.

“And I suggest you do something about your eyes. The redness is a giveaway.”

He walked inside finally, not looking back for her reaction.

To be so drugged up to the point of delirium on the first day of school… If he could never meet that girl again, it’d be too soon.

 

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Luck seemed to favor him on that day because a good handful of other students had come in late with him, too big a group for the teacher to pick on individually. Neji was able to find a seat in the front row next to a plain boy and an empty desk. His record would triumphantly remain unmarred.

Meager bustling and shuffling sounds of the class had soon fallen to even quiet. The teacher had strangely kept silent for the first early duration of the period. Things were supposed to run flat, dull, and short—an introduction, class representatives, about a two paragraph copy-pasted hand-me-down speech about responsibility and moral rectitude, then the stack of packets for their guardians to sign and return before the end of the week would be distributed out. In his opinion, it was the most useless class in curriculum, for what good are twenty minutes of “community regrouping” when there are far better uses that—

“GOOD MORNING, MY BEAUTIFULLY BLOSSOMING BUDS OF UNWAVERING YOOOUTH!”

If the man’s energy could knock someone to their feet then his _voice_ was like having his thoughts trampled by a bullet train.

Luck must have taken back its pay, because now he’d been assigned with a teacher who took morning assembly far too seriously.

Attendance was taken, and the class officers were decided to be that bowl-haired over-enthusiastic nuisance and a girl who seemed very reluctant to be partnered with him. Gai-sensei spent most of their time talking about himself and his achievements (to the thunderous applause of that same annoying boy), offering advice on how to be a great success just like him, and probably would have completely wasted the entire block if not for the sudden meek creaking of the door open and the hesitant person who then came through with it.

“Um… Gai-sensei…?” Said _her_ , the girl from the hallway just minutes ago. Neji’s eyes narrowed. “I’m here. Sorry for being late.”

Her eyes were not as red from before. They darted to him—which he retorted in an immediate scornful glare—and then quickly dropped to the floor, the flinch-flash of an uncertain pained expression not missed by him before it disappeared.

Gai-sensei examined the clipboard in his hands. “Hm… you're Tamura Tenten?”

“ _Tamura?_ That’s not right. It’s—oh—wait—I mean, yes, that’s me.”

“Do you have a reason for being late?”

“I… wasn't sure where to go?”

She was grilled to the bone about her whereabouts and reasons for being late, which she answered with surprising readiness. Neji soon lost interest and searched through the papers he’d been given. As usual, they’d all have to be filled out by himself. Grandfather was too weak to manage a legible kanji.

Homeroom was minutes from its uneventful conclusion, and the girl, Tamura, had yet to find a seat. This only mattered to him when he realized that there was just one empty desk left, the one at his side.

As she pulled back the chair and sat down, Neji remained as impassive as ever despite his displeasure. Right when he’d been hoping that he would never have to see or speak to the girl again, here she was right next to him to stay for the rest of the semester.

There would be as little interaction as possible, he determined that right then and there.

 

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But she was not good at being covert.

This marked the thirteenth time he'd caught her stealing a cheated glance in his direction, and each time he’d been so kind as to pretend he hadn’t. It was irritating. What made her feel so entitled to sneak indulgent _peeks_ at his profile, as if he didn’t already get enough of those on a daily basis?

Why she was so concerned with _him_ , he wouldn’t know, and he didn’t care enough to find out. But it was irritating.

 

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The last teacher exited the class and school hours had come to their end.

All rose. They were dismissed.

Most students had clubs or athletics or other after school activities to attend to in place of going straight home afterwards, and no exception was he. To where else would he owe that athleticism if not for his zealous dedication to the track team?

Oddly enough, it was true. He liked to run. It was something about himself (something from a very bleak variety) that he had no explanation for. Objectively, there were other sports with greater health benefits out there, sports less likely to cause long-term wear-and-tear on the body. But running for the sake of running… It was the most exhilarating thing to him.

With his hair tied back, Neji led himself to the grounds of the track field. The baseball team wasn’t too far off at the diamond past the gates, but they weren’t noisy like they usually were. It was the first day, after all.

The captain this year was some stodgy thread of a boy in the year above him. Considering the exceptional performances and times Neji had brought to the team last term, _he_ should have been the current captain... but that benign seniority privilege kept the title out of his reach just yet. Next year, for certain, the position would be his. He knew that for a fact. No one else came close.

And after sitting through a speech from the captain whose banality rivaled dated sitcomic end-of-the-day morals they were released for warm-ups. Just as Neji was rising off the ground to follow suit, the newly-decided class representative jogged up to him.

“Ahh, Neji, my rival! I feel most invigorated after listening to the captain’s speech! Let us do our best today, and everyday onwards to make him proud!”

The boy bounced off to stretch. Neji ground his teeth.

He despised Rock Lee.  

Few people in this world were _personally_ hated by Hyuuga Neji. _No one_ and _no thing_ could irritate him as much as that boy. If anything, Lee ought to feel some sort of pride that he stand out so much among the ant-like piddling worms common to student population that he be hated by the most composed, stolid person on campus.

_Rock Lee._ That he possessed the _gall_ to call himself his rival... There ought to be a sick ward for persons so delusional.

 

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With common sense and intelligence becoming an increasingly rare commodity, he often found himself dampened among the intellect his classmates had to offer. Even collectively, their brainpower amounted to little more than the mental capabilities of a prehistoric pack of belumbering troglodytes. It wasn’t condescension, either. Such was the harsh nature of reality, and he didn’t care to sugarcoat.

But that wasn’t anything out of the unordinary.

No, the unusual thing was the not-so-slyly folded paper note left conspicuously in his shoe locker.

A scowl.

He shouldn't have to deal with such things.

He doesn't have time for this.

He doesn't care.

Neji lifted the note and tossed it in the nearest waste bin.

He knew it came from _that_ girl. She'd been the offender everyday this week thus far.

If she didn't cease pestering him soon, he'd have to take action.

  
  


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**Author's Note:**

> I hope it’s not too weird to read Neji refer to her as “Tamura”, but he doesn’t know her (or anyone) well enough to use her first name at this point. I picked that for her name because Tenten’s Japanese voice actress is Yukari Tamura. Thanks for reading!


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